


Just Another Page in a Book

by Ellesra



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Established Relationship, Homestuck Rarepair Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellesra/pseuds/Ellesra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When all is said and done, there is only acceptance left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Page in a Book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZeeCatfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeeCatfish/gifts).



> Prompt:  
> Established relationship prompt where Eridan and Dave have been together for ages, where Eridan's seadweller genes make him look like an early twenty something still while the years catch up with Dave, whose temples are going gray and whose body just isn't quite what it used to be anymore.
> 
> They've had some 50 or so years to come to terms with their differences in lifespan, so I'd rather see it explored from a domestic, living with the knowledge and making every day count point of view than angst about oncoming ends or what will you. Give me Dave making jokes about his young hot arm candy, shouting in public that he's still got it just to embarrass Eridan. Eridan turning down outer space job openings to spend Dave's last decades on earth with him. Discussions about what Eridan will do once Dave is gone. Discussions about Dave retiring.
> 
> I'm not really fond of pure fluff though, so it'd be cool to see some balance between domesticity and seriousness.

The shop bustles with life. Rush hour was a couple of hours ago, but there is still enough people that newcomers have to look extra hard to find empty seats.

Balancing three lattes, a cappuccino and a sandwich on your serving tray, you weave between the chairs of several customers as you move to the destination. The table seats four, a group of teenagers. Two are clothed mostly in black, though the two have completely different styles. One has a long, straight fringe obscuring her eyes. She was the one who ordered the sandwich, together with a latte, and you imagine she might not have eaten that day. Perhaps she came from a difficult home, or had some kind of eating disorder? You are careful not to judge her merely on stereotypes, and imagine that maybe she does a lot of training, and therefore also eats a lot.

The other teens are similarly visible, though not for lack of colour. One sports short, blue hair, and has a bright pink scarf. The other had a lot of colourful patterns. He is the one who ordered the cappuccino, and you hand it to him, proud of the perfect little flower drawn with the foam. He's cute, you think, and imagine he might be playing for more than one team. They often do, you have found, especially when hanging around with the creative kind. These kids looked like they fit right into that category.

When you aren't too busy, you like to come up with background stories for your customers. Sometimes, it's just trying to figure out what they might have eaten for breakfast. At other times, it's an elaborate story, wound together with what you have of facts.

There is one person who always comes here alone, sitting in one of the chairs by the windows. The man usually wears t-shirts and jeans, and you like to think he is a student, who, after a stressful day at school, comes to the shop to catch a break. Once you overheard him on the phone, a heated conversation, and from that you gathered he lives with his girlfriend. He probably goes out to escape from her as well.

There is a girl who comes by now and then. She always carries her computer with her, and you amused yourself with thinking of secret hacking missions best done on public servers, or perhaps a love affair she didn't want tracked back to her IP address. Not that you know a lot about stuff like that. Mostly you busy yourself in your interest in coffee, and you find very little time for computers other than the occasional scroll through your facebook dash.

A customer beckons you over. He orders two muffins, a cup of coffee and a soda. He is an elderly gent, and you know by now the soda is for the troll sitting opposite him. Your boss is still slightly wary of troll customers, but that is mostly because she was alive at the time when there was a lot of strife between the troll and human species. You grew up in a system where meeting a troll is the most normal thing, though, and you think no more of it.

The couple at the table is one you have seen often. The story you made of them started as one between a father and his adopted troll son, but you soon changed your mind when you saw them exchange a peck on the lips the next time they stepped into the room. Based on the older man's suit and sunglasses, you had guessed he was some kind of rich guy, maybe a celebrity, and that the handsome troll was his consort. Perhaps the human was some kind of mafia boss, and he had an assortment of young trolls at his home, all to his particular liking.

Then, once they had come to the shop a couple more times, always together, you changed your mind. There was something about the way they acted, the familiarity, that stuck to you as something much more loving than a paid relationship. Dave (you had learned his name by the sixth time they came here) sometimes called the troll his “arm candy”, but it was always jokingly, and always retaliated with humor. They had a lot of names for each other, you'd heard. It was kind of sweet.

You had also learned that Dave was, in fact, not fifty-something, but rather more than seventy. He was looking good, considering, though once you knew, you spotted the signs more easily. When he had taken off his shades, it became much more apparent. Also, you had heard him mention his retirement once. You'd thought it a joke, at first, when you believed he was younger. When you realized he was, in fact, Dave Strider, a famous movie producer, it put things in perspective. The suits, for one, made much more sense.

Eridan, the troll, seemed to be an officer of some renown. You had heard him mention that he might ship out again, when Dave went away. This was also when you realized one of his rings was a band of marriage, and that they were, in fact, very much a couple. It also made you wonder how long they had been together. The troll looked no more than twenty years, but then again you had met trolls who looked far younger than they were (even hooked up with one once, and only been told after that she wasn't twenty seven like she'd claimed, but in fact eighty nine. She then explained that humans often looked at age very strangely). You'd done some research after that, just because you really couldn't get it off your mind, and you'd found that trolls with his kind of ear-fins could live more than ten times as long as humans.

The whole thing made you rather sad, actually.

Even so, they joked about it so easily. Once, you heard Dave call Eridan a gold-digging broad. The troll had retorted with 'perverted geezer', and it had started one of their many quip-exchanges. You'd never really heard someone say 'pedo hipster' in such a loving way before. 

You served them, and went on to the next customer, on to another speculation.

 

Since they started coming to the shop, they had always been together. Only thrice had you seen them separate. The first was when Eridan had staggered inside, a half-full bottle of tequila in his hand. Instead of asking him to leave, you had taken the bottle from him (for safekeeping, of course) and given him a cup of tea. He wasn't disturbing anyone when he just sat there muttering to himself, so you figured it would be alright to let him stay a while.

After a couple of hours and two more cups of tea, you'd heard what you thought was the whole story. He and Dave had fought, it seemed. He'd stormed outside in a fit of rage, gotten drunk. Ended up there when he had difficulty finding the way home. Had you known Dave's number, you'd have called him. Not that you knew any of them well enough to be taking this kind of responsibility, but you felt sorry for this guy, who looked all kinds of broken up.

Thankfully, Dave came to get Eridan before you had to close. You were happy you wouldn't have to kick the troll out. The old man had surprised you when, even at his age, he had easily taken Eridan's arm across his shoulder and half-way carried him out of the shop. A nod had been your only thanks then. However, next time they came in, he gave you quite the tip. You didn't usually get tips, as it was a coffee shop after all, but it was great that your kindness hadn't gone unappreciated.

The second time one of them came in alone, it was Dave. He didn't seem different from usual, and he smiled just the same to your undoubtedly witty remarks as you served him. A chai latte and a piece of chocolate cake. He thanked you. Then he sat there a couple of hours, declining your inquiries for more orders, and left.

Your speculations were very conflicted on what was the most plausible reason for this visit. However, as the days dragged on, you started to forget about it. Other people passed through like usual. You pondered, every now and then, where the cute couple had gone. Maybe on some exciting vacation. There were rumors that the famous Dave Strider had his own island, so they might have gone there. Or perhaps he was making another movie? The romantic in you suggested a second honeymoon. Or perhaps it would be the third. There really was no knowing with people as rich as they must be.

You found yourself a bit surprised when Eridan came in a few weeks later. He ordered the same soda and the same muffin he usually did. Then he sat there, alone.

“What is Dave up to lately? I haven't seen you guys in a while,” you chat easily, as you put the plate down before him. He looks up at you minutely, and his eyes are bright, and, you catch yourself, kind of beautiful.

“He's gone,” he tells you, giving you a small smile, and shrugs. You are left dumbfounded. Not only by the strange, numb realization that there is one customer you will never see again, but by the weary, accepting look of him. He tells you it was heart failure, that it's an expected thing for humans of his age, that they knew it was coming sometime. He still has this wavering way of speaking, but now you hear it even more profoundly.

You tell him you're sorry. But it feels empty, because you know that isn't enough, but you don't know what more to say. You think you see a drop of purple slide down his cheek, but before you can think more of it, he's talking about how he's shipping out soon, that you probably won't see him around. You have to go, to tend to other customers, and he soon leaves.

You don't see him again, and as such the two of them become just another story, another thing you tell your friends about when they ask why you've been working so long at a tiny coffee shop.

_You meet so many interesting people, you know?_


End file.
